


just like kisses on the necks of "best friends"

by grapefruity



Category: Marvel, Young Avengers
Genre: F/M, sexual tension so tight it needs yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapefruity/pseuds/grapefruity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or in other words what happens when you throw two sexually frustrated teenagers with way too much romantic attraction in the same living quarters</p>
            </blockquote>





	just like kisses on the necks of "best friends"

It’s roughly two or three am when he gets rudely awoken from his incredibly comfortable recoil on the couch he and Billy had hauled upstairs from a dumpster nearby and ignores whoever’s at the door — probably a Mormon. Those fucking Mormons. — by rolling over in his position before the scampering of paws at the wood of the door proves to be annoying enough to get him to it. 

 

“Look it’s like, three in the morning dude whatever you’re selling isn’t _that_ good for it to—“ he yawns before his sleepy eyes adjust in the dark, focussing on the form of Kate Bishop standing on his doormat, which for the record was also getting soaked because it seemed to be raining, with a dog and her bow and a bulky backpack. 

 

“Good thing I’m not selling,” she says by way of a reply and offers a half smile and half shrug. “Surprise?” 

 

How do you respond to your ex-teammate and ex-something showing up at your door, soaking wet as if nothing is wrong with that? It’s simple, you stare at her like you just went brain dead and find the only response in your slackened jaw.

 

Through whatever sentences she was throwing at him a steady line of running questions and commentary flashed through his mind, most prominently, _Why is she here? Why is she here_ now? _Where the hell did she get the dog? Does she even like dogs? Bangs? She got bangs? Hey I can totally see her bra through her shirt—-_

 

_“Tommy!”_ she raises her voice hopelessly and he blinks stupidly at her a couple of times before that part of his brain returned to him.

 

“Uh huh yep, reporting for duty, and so are you— I mean, what— what are you doing here?” he blurts, fidgeting on the spot. So much for keeping it cool. 

 

“Freezing,” she replies setting her jaw in a straight line. She even goes through making a show of wrapping her arms tightly around herself to let out a theatrical shudder. “So you should let me in so I can _not_ continue to,” 

 

“Right,” is all he says before stepping aside to let the dog lick at his toes. 

 

* * *

 

Before another sentence can be said she makes a beeline for the bathroom, and he’s stuck in his own apartment, with a dog trying to sniff and lick at his crotch. It is as revolting as it sounds. 

 

It’s also completely humiliating because he’s got one of Billy’s weathered comic book shirts on, and some old boxer shorts that have some lame green zig-zaggy pattern. It is not chick material in any sense. 

 

She emerges in a loose t-shirt that looks like it could be his and some shorts, toweling at her hair with his towel. He’s sure that that one’s his. It doesn’t help that it gives him the inkling of a fantasy to play with before reminding himself of the crotch-sniffing-licking dog. 

 

“Uh, do I get my explanation now?” he warily dangles the question in the air and moves towards her. 

 

“I had a fight with Clint. He’s an idiot. I need fresh air. I also don’t have enough money to just… hit the road effective immediately so, I just, thought I’d crash here. A couple weeks or so,” she says it casually as if they’re roommates who like to stay away with family frequently yet fall back into the pattern of sharing living habits. He’s kind of flattered, but she’s also poking around in his fridge and she brought a dog, and he also hasn’t seen her in ages, and it’s all doing his head in. _And_ he’s tired. It’s not a recommended combination.

 

“Last time I checked you pinned me as the team idiot,” the skepticism made itself known but he threw up his hands in a surrender pose in retaliation to her own skeptical glance. “Not that I’m suggesting you leave. I would very much like for you to stay. You should stay,” he weakly finishes. 

 

She let that sentence hang for a minute with a soul-piercing gaze before her head rested against the wall of his kitchen wall and she fixed him with a hint of a smile and a weak, airy laugh. “Okay, Tommy. And yeah, you’re the team idiot but at least you’re not a self pitying one.” 

 

That’s good enough for him. 

 

* * *

 

The sun’s licking at his eyes when he finally wakes on the couch ( he let her take the bed he wasn’t sleeping on ) and Kate’s doing stretches just a bit off. Lucky — the name he learned the night before. Yeah, it was lucky alright. Lucky that he hadn’t immediately kicked it out when Kate turned her back. — is leashed to the door handle and licking its paws clean of water, and Tommy’s blearily staring across the room at the window who’s curtains aren’t even thrown open. 

 

The clock on the wall reads one o’clock. 

 

“Urgh,” is the only sound he makes, indignantly, and close to rolls off and onto the floor before sleepily trudging to the bathroom to freshen up with his back hunched over with weariness. 

 

When he comes back there’s pizza on the table, well actually it was there since before he woke up, but he’s not really observant, that’s more of Billy’s forte. He just passes through space and time til’ everything’s a blur which usually is both recklessly dangerous and amazingly free. “Are you taking me to lunch? Is this a date?” 

 

“No. I invited my actual boyfriend over while you were asleep," she flips open the box and there are indeed a couple slices missing. "We scandalously ate the pizza without you,”  He throws his hands to his chest to clutch at where his heart is in mock pain. 

 

“I can’t believe this. We had something special,” he grabs for a slice and it’s greasy enough for him to appreciate the sentiment. It’s kind of cold though. And soggy. He’ll live. 

 

“Sorry. Dogs rule, boys drool, universally known fact,” she’s by his side in an instant and grabs a piece herself. Her nails are too well manicured and it should be a sin that she’s coating them in pizza sauce. 

 

They eat in silence for a good bit of the afternoon which is fine. He’s hungry, she’s hungry, he’s still kind of confused, she’s still kind of pissed off, and they’re both tired enough to not really find it awkward. 

 

“I thought you were living with the Kaplans?” she finally asks breaking the silence between them. 

 

It confirms his suspicions that she hasn’t really kept in contact with the rest of the team, seeing as Billy would be an outlet to them. “Yeah but I eventually got a job,” her eyebrows shoot up and he almost feels like he should be offended. Almost. “And moved out because, jeez, it was weird you know? I mean it was cool that they treated me like their son but— but I wasn’t. I’m _not._ I’m just the guy that looks like their son. I kind of felt like rash to them you know? Plus independence is more my game,” 

 

There’s a twinkle of pity in her eyes? It looks like pity, and it’s kind of making him squeamish because Tommy Shepherd most definitely doesn’t want or need someone else’s pity. Especially when that person is Kate. “Don’t look at me like that. I still have to spend the holidays with them. And they invite me to dinner like, every weekend,” 

 

“How’d you know where to find me?” because wait, if she thought he was with the Kaplans, there was no way she’d know to find him here. 

 

She swallows dryly and looks down at her makeshift plate. “I called Billy. He told me that both of you guys moved out and gave me your address,” 

 

There went his appetite. Ah, so she had talked to the rest, and actually had more of an intention of crashing with Billy. “Well,” he cleared his throat and averting his gaze to the box. “Sorry that he’s not here,” 

 

“Tommy—“ there it was again. The _pity._

 

“No,” he grabbed her plate and headed to the bin giving him the perfect excuse to not look at her. “I get it, it’s fine. I’d crash with Billy if I hadn’t already lived through the experience. Hell, any sane person would. He still lives at the same place, if you change your mind.” 

 

“Shut up. Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. You’re an idiot. If I wanted to leave I would’ve. Plus Teddy filled me in later that this was your address,”

 

“So why are you here?” it’s an adventurous sort of question that holds a different meaning from the one he asked last night despite it being phrased the same way. 

 

“Because I want to be,” she answers coming next to him to wash her hands off in the sink. “And also because I don’t want to be third wheel to your brother and his boyfriend,” 

 

“…Fair enough,” 

 

* * *

 

“Wait so, let me get this straight you made out with a thirty four year old?” 

 

“Out of everything I’ve told you about, that’s what you focus on,”

 

“ _Thirty four,”_

 

She tosses a pillow at his head and he catches it without trouble, chucking it right back at her. He puts on some of Billy’s crappy sci-fi movies and the barrier of time dissipates as if it was never there to begin with. 

 

Clint _is_ an idiot but he kind of feels for the guy, plus Kate took his dog. That was kind of mean. Like he said, he _felt_ for the guy. Russian mobsters sound like a pain in the ass, and Tommy’s kind of jealous that Kate got to meet Natasha AND Bobbi. And of Clint for having a thing with at least four different women. 

 

He’s pretty sure by the time he’s thirty he’ll be following roughly in the same path as the older archer. Is that depressing? It kind of is. 

 

“Well that’s my story zippy, what’s yours?” She sighs leaning back and grabbing a fistful of popcorn. Through the day they’d managed three of Billy’s crappy sci-fi films with pockets of information being traded amongst the two.

 

He shrugs and launches a kernel at her hair. “Same old; Outshining every spandex clad hero with my glory and good looks and still getting the job done all the same and then some,”

 

She snorts and chucks a pillow straight at him and he catches it right out of the air and tosses it back in her face.

 

They’re swatting each other like ten year olds in no time and falling asleep on the couch soon after. Yeah, the both of them.

 

* * *

 

Billy strides in the next morning and almost accidentally flops onto the both of them before pulling himself back in the nick of time to prevent himself crushing both of them in the ribs. 

 

“Uh,” is his way of waking them both up. Teddy’s carrying some takeaway pancakes and bemusedly sipping from a cup of coffee when Kate groans which indadvertedly wakes Tommy up. 

 

They both blink up at the other two before Kate scrambles off of him and grabs for the bag, leaves it on the kitchen table and stalks off to the bathroom. 

 

“Nice seeing you again too Kate!” Teddy calls after her before settling into the beanbag just beside Tommy who has his head buried successfully in a pillow trying to filter out the light as much as possible. 

 

“You have work to get to,” Billy pipes cheerfully, nudging himself against Tommy’s feet, throwing his own up on the living room table. He gets kicked mercilessly in the butt and the words “fuck off” can be heard muffled by the fabric of the cushion.

 

 “When did she arrive?” Teddy asks getting up to sift through the various hash browns in the bag. 

 

“Mmmph,” is the coherent response Tommy gives him. Billy yanks the pillow out of his hands and a ten second whine ensues. The pair wait it out without so much as a change in their expression before Tommy flips onto his back and moodily glares at Billy. It’s ignored.

 

“You two wasted no time at all in getting comfortable,” 

 

“Shut up. It’s too early for a patronizing tease from my younger brother,”

 

“Technically we never affirmed that you’re the older one but—-“

 

“She arrived a couple days ago,” he turns over to face Teddy, who’s now kneeling down to pet Lucky and give him tummy rubs. It’s honestly unfair that everyone, even the dog likes this guy. 

 

“Uh huh, see, no time wasted,” he hears Billy hum in satisfaction behind him. Honestly, he should’ve just moved out of the country entirely. 

 

“You were the one who gave her my address,” Tommy retorts in a gravelly voice. Blame it on the morning. 

 

“You were the one who was avoiding talking to her for months,” Tommy narrows his gaze and spends a good ten seconds dwelling on how he’d wipe the smirk off of Billy’s face if he had the same magical abilities. Or how he’d get his feet out of his lap. 

 

“I— That was so not was going on. She left, shacked up with Barton, got a whole new costume and— and, she needed space. So, I gave it to her. I was being considerate. A friend. Totally not avoiding her,” 

“Uh huh, so she needed so much space from you specifically she kept in contact with everyone else on the team?” And— okay that hurt, slightly, just a tiny little amount. 

 

Instead of dignifying that with a reply he huffed and pushed himself off the couch yawning, making his way over to Teddy to yank the hash brown out of his hands. 

 

“He’s got a point Tommy,” Teddy adds politely, an apologetic smile present. 

 

“Urgh, this is my house last time I checked,” 

 

As if on cue Kate emerges from the bathroom wearing a different outfit — honestly how many did she manage to fit in her bag? — and smelling of something kind of feminine. Lucky seems to like it because he woofs appreciatively and pads over to curl up at her feet. 

 

“Please tell me there’s still food that hasn’t been digested by everyone present,” she mumbles coming over and sighing in relief at the still almost full bag of McDonald’s. It doesn’t seem to bother her that it’s sitting right next to Tommy’s hip and she also doesn’t seem to notice that Tommy’s intently watching her and the way her hair falls around her shoulders while she digs out some butter.

 

He sees Billy raise a questioning eyebrow from the corner of his eye and he discreetly flips him off with his hand still plastered to the kitchen counter.

 

* * *

 

Work _sucks_. He’d never heard of anything as boring as piecing together circuit boards but jesus, is it fucking terrible. The only reason he sticks to it is because it pays decently for ten minutes a day and he’s fast, and gets it done better than anyone else. It’s some form of satisfaction his derives from that knowledge.

 

So to make up for his positively crappy day of absolute rubbish he comes home, sees her reading some lame novel that’s dog-eared and old and has probably been read and reread more times than he sees circuit boards in a day, drags her out by the wrist and takes her to the most expensive restaurant he sees within the first five minutes of walking. They’re completely underdressed, a little too young, and a little too… unconventional to fit into the atmosphere there but the confused looks every posh adult in the room shoots them makes up for it and even Kate seems amused by this. 

 

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, taking the velvety looking menu from a waiter who seems annoyed with their presence, and flips through it like she’s seen it all before. Oh right, Bishop kid, probably has. 

 

He shrugs indifferently and focuses on trying out all the appetizers that’ve been set before them. “Pay day,” 

 

She quirks an eyebrow at him as if questioning whether he means a real job, seems to remember it because a passing looks phases over her face, and sets the menu down. “David right? Alleyne? You work with him?” 

 

He gives a short enthusiastic nod and a grin, before popping a peanut into his mouth. “Yep. The kid’s a drag though. For a guy who knows virtually everything he doesn’t really know what fun is, which is disappointing seeing as it’s, fundamental,” 

 

She ignores the stupid pun and gets a waiter over, orders a meal big enough for the both of them and pays for the whole thing.

 

* * *

 

He thinks she may be regretting her decision to temporarily retire from the hero business, with glances to her gear and the not so occasional arrow shine time. And how she likes to use his waste paper bin as a target.

 

Yeah, she’s antsy and restless there’s no doubting that. 

 

He changes into his old uniform, goggles and everything before she can even bat a lash and when she’s greeted to the shockingly green (skin tight) apparel she feigns ignorance. 

“Uh—“

 

“We’re gonna go kick some ass. Beat up some bad guys. Stop some crime. Yada yada, you know the drill,”

 

“—What,” 

 

He rolls his eyes at her and takes her bow from her hands in a flash, grinning with mischief when her eyes slant into beads of contempt. “Give it,” she says like it’s an order.

 

“No,” he replies like it’s a game, dangling it in front of her from behind before snatching it away when her hands instinctually reach out to grab hold of them. Dammit, if she won’t fight real bad guys she may as well release some of that pent up tension and aggression, god knows it’ll do him a favor too.

 

She pounces when she gets a chance and he’ll give it to her that she’s got cat like reflexes and that she almost snagged the ankle of a _speedster_ is avenger type skills. Or more. Definitely more.

 

She finds the next best thing to hurl at him which so incidentally happens to be a Maltesers. Maybe he should be worried that chocolate it melting into wooden floorboards but his concern right now is to dodge, dive, and not destroy the bow in his hands. He doesn’t want her to actually attack him. 

 

One small sweet sphere hits his goggle dead center and at the speed he’s going that’s enough to push the edge into his skin and have him stop to curse and rub at it because this isn’t a _real_ fight and soon enough he’s got a purple blur shifting on top of him and knocking him off his balance. 

 

And then he’s wrestling with that purple blur, dodging punches and headbutts and trying to struggle free from under her but she’s got him pinned down by the power of her thighs and it’d be a lie to say he wasn’t enjoying it just a little bit.

 

Her hands curl around where his are tightened around the cool purple metal. In an odd sort of way it’s their way of having a moment. Eye gazing and soul searching is definitely being involved in this current situation.

 

“Kate,” he breathes after a moment too long without her trying to wrangle it out of his hands.

 

“Tommy,” she condescendingly says back in a way that makes him focus on her mouth. It could’ve been his imagination but it could’ve also been that there was a tone in her voice that sounded close to inviting.

 

It might be that he forgot that this is just a game or that he just really wants to kiss her but by the time he’s close enough to feel her bursts of breath flutter against the parts of his skin that’s exposed she’s pulling back and wrenching her weapon with her, a prideful smug smirk plastered all over those lips that just a second ago he wanted to put his mouth all over.

 

“Not so fast after all are you huh, skippy?” 

 

* * *

 

The thing about Kate Bishop is that she acts all tough and strong because there are parts of her that aren’t. Like, chinks in her armor, that’s the phrase, right? It’s essential to the composition of a superhero that they have a tragic past event or a shocking incident to push them onto the path of masked justice.

 

Kate’s just so happens to haunt her the same way it haunts other girls affected by it. 

 

She doesn’t know that she subconsciously likes to check if the door’s locked properly, or that physicality makes her uncomfortable in ways she won’t admit. She _hates_ that people looked at her differently after Cassie died even if she felt different. 

 

She doesn’t know that when she squirms and sweats under the makeshift blanket Tommy threw to her, she lets out whimpers that wake up someone who wasn’t even asleep. 

 

She’s had therapy, and it’s not like she’s scared she just still gets that gut wrenching feeling of disgust rip through her like lightning. 

 

Honestly the only reason he’s there is because he was up trying to figure out how many pop tarts he could stack in the microwave at once. 

 

“Kate?” it’s dark but he’s got well adjusted eyes and the tiny hisses she makes draw him to her bed easily. Or he thinks she’s hissing until he comes close enough to see moonlight shimmer off wet lines on her face. It’s completely cheesy and tragic and Tommy doesn’t have enough experience to allow him to do what most people would. 

 

What he perceives as comfort is him gingerly sinking down beside her and reaching an arm over her to protectively hold onto her hand. Ingredient number two to the foundations of superheroes; light sleeping.

 

She jerks awake immediately and punches him square in the face and there’s a lot of cursing and apologizing happening at the same time. The moonlight reflects off the wet streams on his face too but pathetically it’s just a nosebleed and there’s no poetic quality to this moment at all. 

 

“What were you doing!” she _actually_ hisses this time when he doubles over and swipes at the blood saying ouch for the tenth time.

 

“Checking on you!” it contains none of the punch he was going for and a lot of muffled, dorky mispronunciation because that’s what happens when you clamp your hand over your nose. 

 

The first blink is in shock and the second morphs into a scowl. He liked crying, sleeping Kate better. 

 

“Why?” Who the hell even musters up this much aggression after waking up? 

 

He glances incredulously at her, stretches out a hand which surprisingly, she doesn’t flinch to, and drags his finger down the salty stain on her cheek. Apparently she was unaware that it was there because her eyes widen and she wipes clumsily at them before turning over and pushing him off the bed. “I’m fine, and sleepy. Go, now,” 

 

If you were to tally the amount of orders Kate gave to him in a single day alone he’d be well equipped to surpass Lucky in the master-pet relationship.

 

“No,” It’s complete defiance and bravado that results in that answer followed by him planting himself firmly back in (his) bed and worming around until he’s right next to her and can fully smell the shampoo ( _his_ shampoo) that was used on her hair. 

 

“Stop,” she grits out warningly but there’s just enough vulnerability to keep him rooted to the spot. 

 

He grunts and flings and arm around her middle, dragging her against him. Unfortunately this is a lot less sexual than anything he’d imagine in this particular context. She wriggles until she realizes that firstly she doesn’t think it’ll do much and that secondly, she doesn’t mind it. 

 

When the movements cease he softly murmurs against her hair “What were you dreaming about?” 

 

She doesn’t say anything but she does wriggle into a position where she can face him. Her eyes are shockingly blue in ways that he discovers he kind of loves. Her lower lip quivers and her irises dart anywhere but his face. 

 

“Alright,” it comes as a whisper from him and it’s gentler than anything he’s possibly said to anyone before. “It’s okay. It’s irrelevant. What does matter is that whatever it was, it’s not real,”  

 

She exhales, quivers and bursts back out into silent sobs, arms curling around his shoulders while her face presses against his chest, soaking his shirt effectively. He realizes that he kind of loves her a little because an overwhelming protective urge washes over him like a wave that drowns him in it’s depth. 

 

He makes out the words “I miss her,” and instantaneously tugs her closer. 

When the sun peaks up over the horizon and he’s spent the night mostly lying awake waiting for her breathing to even out he concludes that he kind of definitely loves her because he can’t remember wanting something as much as the feeling of probably never leaving this position.

 

* * *

 

Habit takes over and literally nothing is discussed about the situation when the two are around each other. He kind of feels like he’s made some sort of grave mistake or crossed some invisible boundary which honestly makes him feel kind of attacked because no one makes this boundaries obvious, how is anyone supposed to know where to step? It’s confusing to say the least but Kate has actually always been confusing to him.

 

She bites but not enough to keep her there but enough for her to pull back and reverse park ten miles away. He gets the nagging feeling that this might’ve been happening over at Clint’s and his stomach does a one eighty flip and the taste of breakfast is coming back up again. No that’s way too disgusting to think about. 

 

But fuck it. He doesn’t have feelings, and he most certainly doesn’t do hand holding, so talking anything touchy feely out is long gone and out of the equation, no consideration is needed there. Although he did wish that maybe she’d acknowledge the fact that she spent at least two hours smelling like him after waking up. That’s a big thing. 

 

In fact bickering is more common place for the two of them than being caring, and kind, and loving and— it’s not their style, is the bottom line. 

 

Like, when she comes up to him and goes all “I’m going to LA next week. It was cool of you to let me stay, despite the fact that we’ve been eating instant food since I got here,”

 

If her purpose was to render him completely speechless in that this-is-a-prank-and-you’re-pulling-my-leg-but-I’m-still-shocked sort of way, mission accomplished. 

 

“I’m sorry, what,”

 

She sighs as if he’s supposed to know this was the most obvious thing in the world, LA, her leaving out of the blue. Yeah. This part is the Clint repeat. She’s taking Lucky too. Definite Clint repeat. 

 

“Leaving. Next week. C’mon, you knew I couldn’t stay forever,”

 

“Like that honestly would’ve been so bad! I mean I don’t think I’d mind but—,” he shuts up the minute the words leave his mouth and his neck feels like it could be on fire. So not the time to go all human torch. 

 

The look of shock he had a few minutes ago? It’s without a doubt being mirrored on her own face before it settles into sympathy. Is that a default emotion of hers, because he’s starting to think it is. At least around him, and that makes the situation worse by at least, five times.

 

Her throwing her arms around his neck in a hug is completely not helping the situation, even if his hands are tangling in her hair and even if he’s pressing her flushed against him. Not helping, zit, natta. 

 

“I’ll miss you,” she says softly. He doesn’t want soft, or sweet, or superficial he wants her to fucking stay. 

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and keeps one arm looped around her before determination settles and he’s running on auto pilot and leaning in before she has a chance to protest. It’s now or never right? 

 

Kissing Kate isn’t the newest experience and it’s laughable that every time it’s happened it’s been in a flurry of emotions. But it’s nice. And she always kisses back. _Always._

 

He doesn’t do feelings but sometimes he does and this is definitely one of those times. For all the times he doesn’t it comes in violent bouts when it’s allowed like the way he’s pressing his tongue past her lips or pressing her body to the wall. Kate’s got gentle and almost shy responses, nips at his lower lip, tongue pressing just the tip against his. 

 

He makes a sound caught between a whine and a groan into her mouth; It’s enough to turn the tables because in the next instant she’s pulling him down on top of her on the couch, turning him over and trailing sloppy kisses down to his neck.

 

He has no idea what they’re doing or if they should be but his head’s so clouded by the fact that her mouth is doing amazing things to his collarbone and his shirt’s unbuttoned to the belly button. And her _thighs_ and the patch of skin pressed against his jeans. And the warmth that’s definitely building in the south regions. 

 

When he pushes the sleeve of her shirt off he drags his thumb across the smooth white plane of skin, like it’s fine art without the no touch rule. He’s not a virgin and Kate certainly isn’t but the way they’re going about this would give off the opposite impression. It’s all nerves and shakes and they both wish this was easier than letting out months of tension and attraction without any barriers to stop them this time. 

 

He fumbles with her bra and her laugh is like a wind chime, which makes his urgent tugging at it just a little more frantic before her slender fingers wrap around his hands and she’s slowly prying them off so she can help unfasten it for him. He can’t remember what it feels like to breathe but he does remember what it feels like to pepper kisses all over her bare skin. 

 

The rest peels off as if it was never on them anyway and within a matter of ten or so minutes there are two hot and anxiously turned on naked kids messily making out and finding ways to entwine their limbs around one another. All this on a couch located near a dumpster. 

 

“You’re great,” he mumbles into her shoulder, letting out shaky breaths while her hands do ungodly things that probably come from how deft she is with them. “Like amazing, like—-”

 

She pushes him back until she’s got her legs on either side of him and he’s temporarily paralyzed with the sight of her simply edging down — _onto him —_ with a schoolgirl blush and the fucking hottest smirk he’s seen. 

 

“Like the best girl you’ll ever have met,” she concludes breathily before leaning forward to kiss the noise out of him. 

 

* * *

 

They end up back in his room after rolling onto the floor far too many times, one of her hands lazily stroking through his mess of white hair and the other lying on his chest, his own one looped through it. 

 

“Please don’t go,” the crack in his voice was the last thing he expected to hear and he looks away after a dry swallow because of it. He can feel her eyes on him. It’s not helping.

 

Her fingers stop doing that thing in his hair that makes the afterglow so much more wonderful and curl under his chin to tilt his face towards hers. “I’m not disappearing Tommy,”

 

He doesn’t respond just looks between her blue eyes and the bed sheet. The silence stretches out before she breaks it with a soft “Hey,” followed by “I’m not. I’ll be around,” 

 

“Okay,” he simply says finally because there’s no longer a point arguing this. Because Kate Bishop comes and goes like the tide and there’s nothing he can do about that but enjoy watching it pass over him and fade away again. 

 

“You can visit me too,” she says firmly, lips pressed into a tight line. 

 

“Okay,”

 

“Promise?”

 

The question lingers for a short few seconds before he cracks the sincerest smile he could’ve possibly ever made. “Promise,”

 

* * *

 

Billy comes over to help her pack for her flight back (apparently Barton’s place is where she’s headed. He’s not bitter. Maybe a little.) and flops down on the couch when she’s taking a shower before leaving. “Something happened between you two?”

 

“What? No,” Like that was convincing. 

 

Billy fixes him with his classic deadpan stare before Tommy finally cracks and sighs, leaning back into his chair. “Yeah okay, sort of. I might’ve said somethings that may’ve suggested I actually happen to have feelings — for her, specifically, and then we might’ve gotten it on where you’re sitting right now, and yeah,”

 

Billy processes this before promptly getting off the couch and striding to sit on the counter. “Word of warning before I sit on a couch where my best friend and my brother decided to do the nasty on please?” 

 

Tommy shrugs. Billy sticks his tongue out on disgust. “I don’t complain about you and Teddy,”

 

“That is such a lie,”

 

“Fine. I don’t have mad rabbit sex as much as you and Teddy,”

 

The door clicks and they both turn their heads. False alarm. “So why’s she going back if you told her about you know… your real, actual feelings, that you actually have,”

 

“I— I didn’t explicitly say it but,” he fumbles. “I don’t know. She needs to do her thing. I’m not stopping her,”

 

It seems to be a thoughtful enough answer for him to not protest but it doesn’t matter because Kate comes out before they can continue the conversation anyway.

 

* * *

 

Tommy’s never been on a legitimately plane before. It’s not really something he plans to do anyway. 

 

Kate sits with him in some shitty fast food outlet at the airport and picks at her salad looking at it in thorough disgust. “Jesus, have they ever heard of at least mixing it? Instead of piling stuff up on one another like a layer cake?”

 

“Hey, it’s cheap fast and easy food princess, you get what you pay for,” he says smugly and she kicks him under the table. Ten minutes more. 

 

“Good luck sorting out your issues with Hawkeye McSenior,” he says in between fries. 

 

“Thanks,” she replies dryly finishing another leaf of her rather toxic looking salad. “I’ll send you the address and you can be a good boy and wreck his place if not,” 

 

“Yes ma’am,”

 

Eight minutes. 

 

“I’ll miss you,” That was unexpected. “I mean not that much but a little,” 

 

“I think you mean A LOT because honestly, who wouldn’t,” 

 

“You’re ruining a good moment right now Tommy Shepherd, feel ashamed, burn in embarrassment,” She collects her things and he tosses his empty fry box into the bin and trails after her as she makes a beeline for the departure hall. 

 

“Alright alright,” he makes his vague hand gestures indicating that she should go on. “I’ll indulge you and let you get all touchy feely. Just this once. Unless you want to do it literally then I can do it whenever you’re free,” 

 

She rolls her eyes and swats his shoulder. “Come visit,” she says coming to a halt at the entrance, people pouring in around them. 

Five minutes. 

 

“What’s in it for me? I mean, I can literally go wherever I want on the planet, why would I check out some small town where you _and_ Barton live, I can’t handle that many Hawkeyes in one space,” 

 

“I’m the only one that matters, get your facts right Shepherd,” she says with a hint of a smirk. “And aren’t I enough of a reason? I’m a good reason. I can testify,” 

 

“Nuh uh, I spent a couple weeks with you, and I’m pretty sure I’m sick of it, sorry, gotta do better than that,” 

 

Two minutes. 

 

She leans up and presses a kiss to his mouth, a small soft one before he cautiously kisses back and they’re standing in front of the entrance to the departure hall kissing like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel. 

 

“That’s what’s in it for you,” she whispers after pulling back. “That’s the best you’re gonna ever get, don’t kick it,” she follows up with a small kiss to his cheek and he’s pretty sure his expression isn’t half as cool as he wants it to be. 

 

“I’ll see you ‘round Shepherd,” she says casually, sliding her shades over her eyes and giving him the last glimmer of a smile before dragging her suitcases after her. 

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself watching her purple form glide through the hall. “See you ‘round,” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago actually and never quite got around to posting it so my memory of the standard of this work is vague at best, but hey, comments are always appreciated!


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